A wave is a wave,
Like a particle is a particle.
A ripple,
A droplet.

Language is not important,
For all concepts are constants.

That is,
The truly objective
And not what is perspective.
That's science!
It's fun,
You'll love it.
You live it!

What I'm saying is
That language & languages change,
The nature of any one given
And those which are still spoken.

Other such things?
They fall apart,
They collapse into dust.
Returning from whence they came.

Paper degrades, wood burns,
Clay crumbles, stone erodes -
What is it? That always which continues?
Such things as the voice of truth & of logic.

As long as there are those who speak it,
As long as there are those
Who are both willing & capable.
All of which any may choose to learn.

History shows,
Only fools don't learn it.
Wisdom knows,
Only the wise really keep it.

So many ways to reduce it!
So many ways to expand upon it!
It's all about knowing!
It's all about sharing!

just you and me,
tucked in midnight's fold,
sharing the day
in murmurs only we hear

I'm sorry isn't enough,
But it's all I've got,
As much as that *****.
I care about you so much,
Never do I ever want to see you come to harm,
Or see you fade away.
I want to see us blossom and grow,
Rather than shrivel up and decay,
So if there's something I can do,
Please let me know,
Could we talk it out?

Can there be a time,
Where we sit down in deep night,
To be honest and alone,
Saying everything we wish we could.

Can there come a day,
Where we just sit and talk,
So I can tell you how I love you,
And plan all the things we're going to do.

If you'll take the time,
I have several lengthy thoughts,
So many I need to get out,
I'd pay you to listen to me talk.
Not therapy,
There's no doctor that could understand,
The level of this.
When the dark crawls through the corners of the night,
I find my eyes making their own light,
Because I know what I need to write.
But will it be valued,
If nobody takes the time to read it?
I doubt you'll pay attention to them,
So I'll keep my long thoughts in my head,
Because there's not enough ink to ink them all down.

Back together?
How wonderful!
But I have just one question,
For the man in the picture.
When you swore not to return,
And cursed her as a *****,
Did you not mean it at all?
My friend, what happened to the dirt you talked?

Attachment tear you from inside,
Leaves your heart nowhere to hide.
Introverted, deeply twisted within,
Lonely yet fine, a world kept thin.

Used by people, trusted in vain,
Sadness flows, but not like pain.
Loneliness, a silent, constant friend,
Attachment breaks what time won’t mend.

It cuts you deep, it takes so long,
To heal, to move, to feel strong.
One person can turn your world to gray,
Their absence, a shadow that won’t stray.

You think of them, though they don’t care,
Their indifference more than you can bear.
Trying and trying, you seek to let go,
Yet thoughts of them forever flow.

Why obsess when the future’s bleak?
Their apathy shows the truth you seek.
I wish to be cold, unfeeling, free,
Yet attachment keeps imprisoning me.

Yet in this pain, a truth I find,
To love myself, to clear my mind.
Attachment tears you from inside,
But healing mends what’s pushed aside.

Please don’t look at me,
now I feel naked
And I would hate it
If I never saw you again

It has taken me
somewhere vacant
and I can’t find
my way home

I feel a shade
jaded
when I’m walking
in the storm

I write to be free,
flows right out of me;
when Inspired to write;
It comes rapidly.

My mind steady ponders,
A world full of wonders,
encouraged to Inspire, as
I ever so desire.

My pen steady moving, and
minds steady grooving,
it's as easy as walking,
let my pen do the talking.


B.R.
01/12/2023

A to Z and all the letters caught between
that line themselves along the shelves
and rest between the bookends,
they don't have the words I need.

A to Z, and all the letters caught between
I can't fit them together anymore,
I can't make them sing,
curved lines and crescendos to ****** the ear
with honey soaked harmonies.

They fall from my lips and slip
under my meaning,
tired and worn,
crumpled in my hands.
Or is it my hands that are tired
of these frail words,
showing the ****** remnants of ambition?

I put them back until I need them again,
for something simple,
a conversation with a net.
Hellos and how dos,
the pitter patter
of banter
on my tongue
designed to hide the heart.

So I will let them rest
until they sing to me again,
or I find a new alphabet.